Dark Edge
by locomotive
Summary: The homicide of a young woman draws Sofia into a dangerous game of cat and mouse. How far will she go for justice? Rated M for violence in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

So, this is my first fanfic in a very long time. I've been brewing this one for a while, I just haven't had a chance to capture it in words until now. But I'm back in the fanfic saddle once again and I'm looking forward to seeing how this one works out. I'm breaking from my normal approach and I'm posting as I write. So there may be some short gaps between updates but if you like what you read, then please review.

 **Prologue**

He had been right to change the game. Of that he was certain. Still, he was increasingly troubled by the added danger of his recent actions, danger he'd caused by breaking the rules that had long kept him safe. Nevertheless, this new game simply felt …. right.

He stood, motionless, slowing his breathing as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Gradually he began to discern dim shapes across the room: refrigerator, stove, sink, a stack of mail on the worktop. On the other side of the room sat a six-seater dining table surrounded by leather covered seats. Smells wafted through the air. The aroma of stale Chinese take-out. A hint of detergent. The smell of perfume.

Her scent.

Outside, a breeze stirred in the night. A tree branch rubbed against the guttering, creating a grating sound. Upstairs, a sudden creak.

He froze, his senses straining.

Someone getting up?

Another creak.

He waited, palms slippery inside the latex gloves.

Silence.

He relaxed his grip on the pistol. He crept to the kitchen worktop and set his knapsack on the maple surface. He wanted to make one last check to confirm he had packed everything he needed. With growing excitement, he retrieved the liquid-filled syringe and removed the protective cover. He reshouldered his knapsack and eased through the living room to the front of the house. There, a staircase led to the second floor.

Now?

Not yet. Give it a few more minutes.

Better safe than sorry.

He forced himself to wait on the bottom tread, a delightful pressure building within. He pictured the woman as he had last seen her, long limbed and tanned, a youthful energy punctuating her every movement.

In the rooms above, she slept alone, unaware she was about to embark on the most intense journey of her otherwise insipid existence.

A moment later he started up the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

She didn't like psychologists very much, especially when they held the key to getting back to work. It wasn't that she was afraid of introspection, she just liked to do it her own way. Not to someone else's schedule. Not in someone else's castle. She had known plenty of colleagues who had found it very helpful. Her first partner in the academy had used the services of a psychologist when he was having marriage problems. He was a big stocky, tough guy on the job, but when you peeled back the armour he was actually quite vulnerable. He found a way to trust that safe space offered by the councillor and really get to the root of his problems. His marriage didn't survive, but he did.

She, on the other hand, didn't go in for all that 'getting in touch with your feelings' stuff. She dealt with her thoughts in her own way. Until now it had always worked for her. So it was through gritted teeth that she squared up in front of the door of one Dr. Emma Logan, PsyD, LMHC, CATC, CGC, CRC. The etched name on the frosted glass was squashed to accommodate all the extra letters.

Once inside she stared absently at all the certificates and qualifications that adorned the inner walls. She had certificates of her own, a degree in forensic science, a diploma in criminology, not to mention a certified first responder. They were all packed away somewhere in a cardboard box. Looking around the room she suddenly wondered where. Could they be in the basement of her mother's house? Not likely. Her mother had cleared everything out within a month of her moving out to Vegas. What she hadn't claimed was dumped. That meant the best bet was that lock-up on the edge of town. All her old stuff was stowed there. Maybe some day she'd get around to sorting through it all.

She was brought back to the present by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Dr. Emma Logan glanced around the room, tracing the same path as Sofia's eyes.

"What do you see?" she asked.

"Lots of scrolls," replied Sofia. "You're highly educated."

"Thank you." Logan beamed. She was very proud of her accomplishments.

Another long silence.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude," Sofia finally spoke, "you seem like a really nice person. I just don't…"

Dr. Logan kept her face neutral, "Don't what?"

"I just don't think you can help me."

"Why do you think that?"

"Look, you've obviously worked really hard and you're very successful", Sofia said, waving a hand towards the wall. "It's just... how can I say this… you don't know anything about real life. I mean, you spend your days behind this door, researching, talking, listening. Not doing. You don't know what it's really like to feel what people on the job are going through. I mean, you've never been shot at, cornered in an alleyway by a gang, pinned down while your partner is beaten senseless. You're not qualified to help me."

"I have been shot at."

Sofia jerked her head upward, making eye contact with Dr. Logan for the first time. Her face was soft, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes barely betraying her age.

"Tell me about that alleyway."

Sofia sighed. Inside she kicked herself for breaking her rule. She should've stayed quiet, just sat there silently until her hour was up and she could get back to her job. But she had blown it. She considered brushing the question aside, but maybe she was holding on too tight. Maybe talking through it wouldn't be so bad. After all, it was the reason she was here in the first place. Maybe if she just spoke about it this once she would be freed from this office and these sessions for good. So she settled back in her chair, took a deep breath, and began.

"It was a shift like any other. We'd just finished up a case. Double homicide. Big drug bust. We had finished our final briefing, filed away our notes, clapped ourselves on the back for a job well done. We picked up the next call. It sounded routine. A homicide off East Colton. But when we arrived on scene we knew straight away that something was seriously off." Sofia's palm glanced her abdomen absentmindedly.

"What happened next?"

Sofia swallowed. "Well, for a start, there was no-one else on scene."

"Is that unusual?" asked Logan.

"Not necessarily," answered Sofia. "The police generally arrive ahead of everyone else. Sometimes paramedics are on scene first. What was strange was there were no uniforms there. They're nearly always first on scene, as the closest responders. Their job is to call it in, seal off the area, and detain any suspects or witnesses. Only this time there was no-one else there."

Sofia stopped. She inhaled sharply.

"I switched the engine off. It was so quiet. We glanced at each other before we stepped out of the car. I guess in hindsight it was like an unspoken warning. We should've stayed in the car. I should've restarted the engine and backed right on out of there. That's what our shared glance suggested. I think about that moment often. It could all have turned out so differently."

Sofia was lost in the memory. Her breathing sharpened, her pulse quickened. It didn't go unnoticed by the good doctor.

"Tell me what happened next."

Sofia was thrown back to the present again. It was if she'd forgotten where she was for a moment. She looked quizzically at Logan, until recognition finally washed over her features. Her body tensed as she prepared to recount the next part.

"We walked up the alleyway slowly." Sofia's voice was suddenly thin. "Our hands were close to our weapons. Every few steps we paused and glanced at each other, we knew something wasn't right. Then up ahead we saw something. A shadow, slumped on the ground. It was the victim. We made our way towards the shape. I stooped down to check for vitals. Larry started calling it in."

Sofia stopped again, unwilling to relive the memory.

"And then what?" asked Logan.

Sofia glared at her.

"There was no-one there. There was no victim. It was just a pile of clothes. In that moment I knew it was a trap, I knew who was really there. It was Boland's crew.

"The double homicide bust," said Logan.

Sofia didn't respond. She sat there, consumed by the images playing behind here eyes.

"I started to call out a warning to Larry but it was too late. They came out of nowhere. Four guys. One of them grabbed me from behind."

Sofia was talking fast now, seemingly no longer aware of Logan's presence.

"Two of them grabbed Larry, the third guy started beating on him. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, the fourth guy had his hand clamped tightly around my arms. I was helpless. It was exactly as Boland said it would be."

"What do you mean?" asked Logan.

But Sofia wasn't listening.

"He warned me. In the interview room. I was questioning him. He told me he'd come for me and my partner. He described what would happen. I'd be made to watch while they smashed in Larry's skull. Then they'd gut him like a fish. Slice him up from his navel to his sternum. Pull out his insides and lay them down right in front of me. And then they'd do the same to me."

"And then?" asked Logan, her neutral face faltering slightly.

"And then," said Sofia, "they set to work."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Sofia stumbled through the door of her house, breathless, sweating heavily, her long blond hair matted against her scalp. She always pushed herself on her daily run, but today was even more punishing than usual. It helped to clear her mind and she spent the road time in her own thoughts, thinking back on the earlier session with Dr. Logan and the gash of memories it exposed.

It was a draining session. Sofia had put a lot of energy into forgetting what had happened that night. But now that her defences were down, her mind was swimming with images and whispers, shadows and sounds. She imagined she could smell the stale interview room where they questioned Boland. She could see the stained walls as clearly as if she was standing in the room now. She could feel the scuffed table against her elbows. Sitting against the table she pictured Boland. She winced as she recalled his stench, the spittle on his thin lips and the hate in his eyes. He wasn't a substantial man, but he exuded a hardness that was not to be messed with. Sofia had seen it all before. She'd lost count of the number of suspects she'd questioned in this room. Each one of them with whispered threats against her and her partner. It had become part of the natural cadence of every interrogation. But there was something about Boland that was difficult to shake. Or at least that's how she felt about it now.

Back then it was less obvious that this was more than just the usual bluster. Boland went through all the moves that a guy in his situation does; he stonewalled, then hurled abuse, he even tried humour. It didn't get him anywhere. Sofia was too disciplined to be taken in by such tactics. But then Boland looked her dead in the eye, holding her gaze captive in his. She could see him now, his square face beaded in sweat, his black hair scraped back along his scalp, two days of stubble on his cratered chin. She wanted to look away, but couldn't. He beckoned her to lean in closer to him. Involuntarily she complied. He smirked. Then his stare hardened. He warned her to toss the case against him or else face the consequences. By the time he had finished describing what would happen to Sofia and her partner she felt sick. She tried very hard to prevent Boland from seeing how shaken she was. He was studying her closely, looking for any sign of weakness.

Afterwards, she tried to shake it off. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't heard this type of thing before. She decided not to mention anything to Larry or the captain. It was difficult enough to be seen as an equal in this male dominated world, without inviting unwanted scrutiny such as this. Much later she would come to regret that decision.

As she ran, she continued to recall the events of that night in the alley. She could feel the same panic rise inside her again and she instinctively increased her pace. Her chest tightened as the gruesome scene unfolded in her mind's eye. She recalled the grip of hands on her arms, restraining her tightly. She remembered how her voice faltered as she tried to warn Larry. And then, she could hear the alley sounds ringing in her head. First, the steam that hissed from a nearby vent, then the rustling of small legs in an adjacent dumpster. But these sounds soon gave way her own breathless screams, followed by the sickening dull thuds as the gang exacted their revenge upon Larry. She ran harder and faster, as if she could outpace her own memory.

Afterwards, safely back in her home, she took a long, hot shower. Finally feeling cleansed, she stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry herself off. Then she used the towel to mop up the condensation that had formed on the full-length mirror. As she did so, her eye was drawn to her body. She could see the lasting mark Boland's men left on her torso. As she lowered her left hand to touch the scar, she trembled, the memories of that night surfacing once more.

Boland was true to his word, his guys were clinical in their execution. They used a crowbar to subdue Larry, swinging it into the side of his skull. He crashed to the ground and they followed with further strikes and quick kicks to his head and propped him up and continued to pound and kick with hard fists and steel-toed boots until his body yielded in a bloody, pulpy mess. As they suspended his limp form, Sofia heard Boland's words in her ear. She knew what was coming next. Struggling against the gripping hands, she tried to work herself loose, but froze when she caught a glimpse of something metal. It looked sharp. By now she was wild with panic, screaming for help, willing them to stop. But it was no use. They plunged the knife into Larry's gut, twisting it for maximum effect. Sofia cried out in desperation. Then guy with the knife cocked his head towards Sofia, relishing her reaction. Through the darkness, she could sense his arousal as the pressure built within him. She heaved at the thought. But then she saw his expression change as a white light swept lazily over the scene. The white light gave way to the flashing lights of a cruiser. The gang hesitated, unsure what to do next. Two of them finally retreated back into the shadows. The guy with the knife made a decision. He turned to face Sofia and covered the distance between them with a few urgent steps, where she was still imprisoned by those gripping hands. He stooped slightly until he was nose to nose with her. His foul odour invaded her nostrils and she grimaced. He stroked her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She turned her head in fear and revulsion. Then without warning, he drove the knife into her abdomen. At first she felt nothing, but before long this gave way to searing pain. Her eyes widened and she dropped to her knees, unable to stay upright. The world melted away. She could barely register the sound of retreating feet. She needed to get to Larry. Shuffling forward on her knees she collapsed to the ground. With her last remaining strength, she pulled herself across the short distance until she was close to him. The alley was streaked in red and blue lights from the cruiser. As her vision clouded she extended an arm out to clasp Larry's lifeless hand. She thought she felt a faint squeeze. Then everything went black.

It was the sound of her chirping cell phone that finally broke the trance. She lunged towards the toilet bowl as the bile erupted from deep within. She wiped her mouth with her towel, no longer feeling shower fresh. Making her way to her bedroom she fumbled her cell open.

"Curtis," she answered automatically.

"Hey Sofia it's Brass. The Sheriff wants to see you."

"The Sheriff? What about?"

"I don't know."

"When?"

"Right now.""


End file.
